Steamed Hams, But It's Port and Ozpin (Late April Fools)
by WriterPatriot
Summary: Wrote this to commemorate the start of this wonderful month we're having. (Late because Document Manager fell ill on April 1st)


**Opening A/N: A huge departure from my normal formula for sure. Mostly intended for the Chibi-verse. Takes place right before Ozpin's speech the night before Initiation Day, Season 1.**

 _Steamed Hams, But It's Port and Ozpin_

"Well, Professor, I made it. Although your directions could use work," Ozpin retorted gruffly.

"Ah, Headmaster Ozpin, welcome!" boomed Port. I hope you're ready for a feast you'll never forget!"

Ozpin stepped inside the house and laid his bottle of wine in the bucket of Ice Dust on Port's kitchen table. Port headed into the kitchen to find his oven shrouded in smoke.

"Great Gods of Remnant!" he cried, peering inside the appliance to face the confirmation of his greatest fear. "My roast is ruined!"

He paced the floor for a few moments, forcing himself to "Think, Port, think!"

Sudden realization came over him as he muttered, in awe at himself, "What if I were to purchase fast food, and disguise it as my own _incredible_ cooking? How brilliantly _manly_ , Peter!"

As he clambered through the kitchen window, Ozpin burst through the door and stepped back as he registered the awkward view of Port. "Agh," he cringed.

"Headmaster! I was simply, uh, doing a training exercise! Grimm could attack at any moment, you know!"

 _"If I get any angrier, maybe,"_ Ozpin mused silently. Then, he asked the question of the hour. "Why is there smoke coming out of your oven, Peter?"

"Eh, oh! That isn't smoke, it's steam. Steam from the… steamed clams we're having," Port muttered. Ozpin, although he was having none of it, turned and left the room. Breathing a sigh of relief, Peter finished climbing out the window and rushed off to find a certain old shopkeeper.

"Headmaster, I hope you're ready for these incredibly _manly_ hamburgers!" Port extolled.

Ozpin, taken aback but happy that the burgers didn't appear to contain clams, muttered, "I thought we were having steamed clams."

Fortunately for Port, he had thought ahead. "Oh-ho, no, I said 'steamed hams!' That's what I call hamburgers."

"You call hamburgers 'steamed hams,'" Ozpin stated, not even bothering to phrase it as a question.

"Yes!" Port crowed proudly. Not satisfied, he quickly added, "It's a… regional dialect."

"Really," Ozpin retorted; once again, no question at all. "What region," he added obligatorily.

"Uh, Northwest Vale," Port answered, becoming worried. Ozpin had nearly fully explored his slapped-together chain of excuses.

"Really," Ozpin retaliated. "Well, I'm originally from the island of Vytal, and I've never heard anyone use that particular phrase."

Port fired his last shot. "Oh, not on Vytal of course; it's a Patch expression."

"I see," Ozpin muttered, turning back to his plate resignedly. After a few more bites, he tried again. "You know, these hamburgers are quite similar to the ones at Old Man Shopkeep's-"

Port guffawed condescendingly. "Oh, no, patented *Port*-erhouse burgers, every one of them. My mother's own recipe."

"For 'steamed hams,' Ozpin attempted, brokenly.

"But of course!" Port rolled right along.

It was Ozpin's turn to fire his last shot. "And you call them 'steamed hams' despite the fact they're obviously grilled."

Despite being as fed-up as he was with Port, Ozpin had to admit, at least to himself, that the look on Port's face was priceless. The seen-through professor was struggling, and mostly failing, not to blush in embarrassment.

"You know," he paused. "One thing I," he forced out, "Excuse me for one second." He swiftly left the room.

In the kitchen, Port's life suddenly got much, much worse. The roast, which he had forgotten to remove from the oven, had caught fire, and this had spread to the wall behind the stove! He knew now more than ever that he couldn't keep Ozpin believing that nothing was wrong, so he headed back to the dining room to get rid of him.

"Well, that was wonderful. Good time had by all!" he boomed, pretending to be satisfied with how it had gone.

"Yes, I should get into town soon, it's almost time for the pre-initiation speech—Holy Dust, what is happening in there?" He questioned frantically, pointing towards the kitchen doorway. Bright orange light was visible all around the edges.

On the inside, Port was nigh inconsolable, but he managed to throw a wild verbal punch. "Aurora Borealis?" It sounded way too much like a question for his liking.

Ozpin was utterly stunned, and getting a bit mad. "Aurora Borealis! At this time of day? In this part of the Kingdom, localized entirely within your kitchen?"

"Yes!" Port answered with all the confidence in the world.

"May I see it?" Ozpin caught him off-guard.

"No," Port finished matter-of-factly.

Once outside, Ozpin simply stomped off to the air-station. As the sirens started in the distance and the smoke from Port's house became more and more pronounced against the skyline, he muttered, "There's no way I'll act like myself during this speech..."

 **Closing A/N: Well, Happy April Fools, everyone! I'll keep this fic posted, but I'll most likely change the title after a few days. This is the only day of the year I really want to post stuff like this… Just tell me what you thought like always. Thanks for reading!**


End file.
